The rough with the smooth: Part II
by louella
Summary: Second part of The Rough With The Smooth, in which our heroes finally confront those pesky feelings.


**This was written as the second half of The Rough With The Smooth, but as it's an M-rating I've made it a stand-alone chapter. You should probably read the first part of The Rough With The Smooth before this one, if you haven't already, but this chapter also seems to work in its own right as well. Hope you enjoy.**

~Chapter Two~

Dempsey wasn't happy. He sipped at his scotch and watched as Harry worked her way around the room. She was wearing some slippery number in pale blue silk, cool like her eyes, cut high in a halter neck at the front but low at the back and clinging across the swell of her behind, leaving far too little to the imagination. No way was she wearing anything underneath that dress. He swallowed hard before finishing his drink and picking up another from a passing waiter.

None of the men in the club seemed immune to her charms, not even the ones there with their wives and girlfriends. Dempsey watched as one guy after another tried to offer her drinks or ask her to dance, only to be politely and smilingly rebuffed. She could take care of herself, he wasn't worried about that, but he didn't like the way they were looking at her.

He and Harry were there to find out more about their suspect, a senior figure in a London drug dealing business, and Harry's role was to make friends with people who may let some useful information slip. It was something she was good at and he'd watched her work her magic that way time and again, but this time he wasn't enjoying it.

A guy leaned in close and took hold of Harry's elbow, whispering something in her ear. Dempsey tensed as he saw Harry gently ease away. He didn't like how this guy was leering at her. Didn't like how he was still holding her elbow even though Harry was trying, subtly, to get herself free. Dempsey's role was to make sure no harm came to Harry and it was one he took very seriously. Depositing his now empty glass on a side table, he ambled towards the pair of them and slid his arm around Harry's waist.

"How 'bout a quick dance, Princess?" he asked as he led her away from the guy with the hands. The band was playing a slow tune, something old and bluesy, and he took Harry's hand in his and began to sway with her in time to the music.

Harry, though, did not appear to welcome his interruption. "What are you doing?" she hissed near his ear. "That chap was about to dish the dirt. He was our best chance at a lead!"

Dempsey leaned down and whispered, "He was your best chance of being assaulted before bedtime. He just needs a minute to cool down. You can try again after this dance." He breathed in and closed his eyes as the scent of her hair hit his senses head on.

"Dempsey," Harry muttered, trying to put some space between her body and his. "He's not going to be interested in chatting to me after this little display, is he?"

"I don't know what you mean," said Dempsey. His hand had moved from around her waist and now rested at the small of her back, against her bare skin, and his thumb began moving in a lazy swirl. He felt her tense for a moment, but then she seemed to relax against him and he concealed his smile by turning his head into her hair.

"Everyone will think we're together!" Harry whispered. Her back was on fire where he was touching her and she could feel his breath on her neck. She knew she should hold back as he pulled her closer but the feel of his body against hers was irresistible. It was all she could do to hold back a sigh.

Dempsey leant down and rested his head against her shoulder, his mouth just moments from her collarbone. "Let them," he said, breathing in her scent, feeling her soft, pliant body along his, her skin beneath his fingers. This was impossible. They were working, he'd wrecked her cover, but he couldn't regret it as his hand slid a little lower down her back, beneath the silk of her dress, edging towards the curve of her hip.

Dempsey wasn't thinking any more. He was lost in the feeling of Harry in his arms, the heat from her body, the softness of her skin. He pressed her closer to him, not caring that she'd feel just how turned on he was, and murmured her name as his lips came to rest in the dip at the base of her neck. He felt her fingers curling into his hair and heard her catch her breath. His hand slid lower down her back, under her dress, his little finger stroking across her softness, and she gasped, pressing her hips against his, turning her head towards his.

As he looked at her he saw that her eyes were dark as flint and staring hungrily at his lips. He took a breath and he bent his head closer, so close, but then the band struck up a loud, jaunty number and he froze as Harry pulled back. Her gaze darting around the room, she mumbled something about powdering her nose and disappeared before he could speak.

In the calm of the ladies, Harry splashed her wrists with cold water and took several deep, steadying breaths. Reluctantly she raised her eyes to her reflection. Her eyes were wide, her lips were trembling and her pulse was still racing. She couldn't go back out there yet.

This job was blown, that was certain, but it had been a long shot anyway so not too much harm done work-wise. But oh my God, thought Harry, how would she ever look him in the face again?

Staring at herself in the mirror once again, Harry pushed back her shoulders and forced her features into a semblance of normality. She was a Winfield, she told herself, and Winfield women had generations of experience in dealing with the unexpected. And if she seemed unexpectedly frosty as a result, well, she was sure he would get over it soon enough.

Her chin high, she strode from the ladies across the corridor and into the hall where Dempsey was waiting. He gave her a lopsided smile and held out her wrap and her evening bag. "Thought you might want these."

"Thank you, Dempsey," she said coolly. "I think it's time we were leaving, don't you?" Without waiting for an answer she turned on her heel and started towards the main doors. She hoped he couldn't hear her heartbeat.

Dempsey wasn't used to chasing women around, but he found himself following in her wake. The Ice Queen was back and he didn't know why, but he knew he didn't like it. For a brief moment he'd been sure that she wanted him, that she felt the same way as him, but now the doubts were back and he wondered if he'd imagined the way she'd pressed herself against him and breathed his name.

He reached his car in time to open the passenger door for Harry, who got in without saying a word. He walked round to the driver's side and sat down, put the key in the ignition and switched on the engine. Still Harry was silent. Dempsey turned his head and saw that she was rigid in her seat, staring straight ahead, fiddling a little with the clasp of her bag. Without looking at him, she said, "It's very late, Dempsey. I'd appreciate it if you would drop me off as soon as possible so that I can't get a good night's sleep."

Wordlessly, Dempsey put the car in gear and began the drive to Harry's place. The traffic was light at that time of the evening and they reached her home far sooner than Dempsey was ready for. The car had barely come to a halt before Harry had the door open and was flying up the steps, throwing a casual "Good night," over her shoulder.

Dempsey didn't think so. He slid quickly from the car and followed her up the stairs, managing to reach the front door before she'd fully closed it. He slipped around the frame and closed the door behind him.

"Dempsey," said Harry, surprised. "What are you doing here? Did I forget something?"

"I don't know," said Dempsey. "Did you? Did you maybe forget how to be warm and friendly? Only I notice that you've been chilly as Frosty the Snowman all the way home."

"It's late, Dempsey, and I'm tired, so if you've just come in to insult me perhaps it would be better if you went home."

"Oh, so this is all my fault, is it?" Dempsey dragged his fingers through his hair. He knew he wasn't making good decisions but this thing was stronger than his good sense and he couldn't hold back. "Nothing to do with how you blow hot and cold or lead people on."

Harry stood rigid. "I've never led anyone on. If people get the wrong idea about me then they've only got themselves to blame."

"You think I didn't notice how you melted against me this evening? I coulda had you on that dance floor and you know it."

Harry blinked. "It was work, Dempsey. That's all. I was trying to keep my cover."

"Work," said Dempsey, moving closer. "Your cover."

"Yes, that's right." Harry's heart was beating so hard she was amazed he couldn't see it.

"We're not working now."

"Which is why I'd prefer you to leave."

"So if I was to kiss you now, and you kissed me back, it wouldn't be to preserve your cover."

"You wouldn't do that."

"Wouldn't I?" Dempsey's senses were full of her, his fingers itched to touch her skin. "What if I did this?"

Dempsey raised his hand and brushed a finger down the side of her neck. A smile played over his lips as he saw the way her fists curled at her sides. He said, "Or this?" And trailed the finger downwards, along the edge of the halter neckline, down further still, sweeping around the outside of her breast. His heart thumped as he saw her nipple harden beneath the sheer silk. "Or this?" He brushed the pad of his thumb across the peak, his mouth dry, his entire body focussed on the feel of her beneath his fingers. Her chest rose as she took in an unsteady breath. He slid his thumb over her nipple again, pinched it gently, cupped her breast in his hand, his own breathing ragged. He groaned, began to mumble her name, but it was caught in his mouth as she slammed her lips against his, her body along his, tangled her hand in his hair and held his head to hers.

There was no time to think, nothing to do but react, mouths and hands and bodies seeking and touching and tasting. Dempsey slipped his arms around her body, urging her against him, his hands sliding along her naked spine, easing under the edges of her dress, across the smooth nakedness of her bottom. His blood pounded as the kiss deepened, Harry's hands tugging restlessly on his hair then pushing under his DJ, pulling his shirt from his trousers and sliding beneath, the breath sucked from his body as her fingertips raked down his back and across his stomach.

Harry knew she was close to losing control. Dempsey's own hands continued their exploration of her body, the feel of the cool silk as it slipped across her hot skin sending her reeling. Nothing would be the same after this. He bent his head to her breast and took her nipple in his mouth, through the silk of her dress, and as he dragged his teeth across the tip a bolt of sheer pleasure ripped through her.

She stumbled back against the wall, pulling him close to her, lifting a knee and wrapping a leg around his back. He groaned as she ran her fingers along the hard length of him, fumbled with his belt, but then he caught her hands, thinking that they shouldn't be here in this hall, under the bright lightbulb and next to the post on the mat. She deserved pristine sheets and rose petals and candlelight. But she was determined and when she looked up at him, her eyes wide, murmuring "please", he was lost. He helped her free himself then lifted her against the wall, sank into her, listening to her cries as he filled her again and again, learning where to touch to make her writhe and moan, pushing her to release before joining her in a shuddering, ecstatic rush.

Gradually they returned to earth. Harry's feet slid to the floor and she removed her arms from around Dempsey's shoulders. Her dress slipped back into place and she ran her fingers awkwardly through her hair. Dempsey glanced down at himself. He was still in his shoes, his trousers and boxer shorts were bunched around his ankles and his shirt was hanging on one arm. He ran a hand over his face. He hadn't lost control like that in twenty years, and with Harry for Chrissakes. He slipped his shirt back on and pulled up his boxers, then toed off his shoes and kicked away his trousers. Better, but Jesus, what must she think of him?

Harry didn't know where to look. She'd actually begged him, for Heaven's sake. Pleaded with him to satisfy her, right here, standing up in the hallway, like a couple of animals. What on earth would he think of her?

She reached a finger out towards his shirt front but pulled it back before it made contact. She couldn't look at him. "I, um…" she said. "I'll just go and… yes, a shower. I need a shower. Why don't you er…" She gestured towards the kitchen. "Tea." Then she fled along the corridor and left him standing.

Dempsey fastened a couple of buttons on his shirt then went to the kitchen. He didn't usually drink tea but he'd make an exception on this occasion. He'd watched her make tea in the pot before and he copied what he'd seen, warming the pot, measuring the leaves, stirring, covering with the cosy. He could hear the noise of the shower. Nothing to do but wait.

Eventually, he heard the sound of Harry's footsteps in the corridor and she joined him in the kitchen, dressed in a fluffy white bathrobe and her hair curling in wet tendrils around her face. She still wasn't looking at him. He poured the tea and added milk, sliding her mug across to her, and she mumbled a thank you. As he leant closer he could smell her shampoo.

"Getting worried about you, Princess," he said. "Longest shower in history. Thought you might wash yourself away."

She gave a small smile. "Tempting, but no. Still here."

"Well, that's good."

"Is it?"

He frowned. "What do you mean? Of course it's good." He took hold of their mugs in one hand and steered her towards the sitting room with the other. He put the mugs on the coffee table and sat on the sofa, pulling on her hand so she would sit next to him. She looked stiff and uncomfortable, so he slung his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer, her head resting on his shoulder and her feet tucked up on the cushion. He dropped a small kiss on her crown.

"You know," he said quietly, "this wasn't exactly how I'd thought this might play out. I'd thought that maybe, one day, you'd let me take you out, and I'd buy you flowers and a fancy dinner, and then maybe we'd date a little, and then eventually I'd book us a night at nice hotel in the country and maybe, just maybe, you'd let me make love to you. You know. In a bed."

"I see," said Harry in a very small voice.

"But this…" He pointed with his thumb towards the hallway. "I've thought about you a lot over the years, Harry. Thought about you and me together, how it might be. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine you'd be so… wow." He chuckled.

Harry's face filled with colour and she stiffened in his arms. "If you're just going to laugh at me perhaps it's best if you leave."

"What? No!" Dempsey looked down at her, took his chin in her hand so she was forced to look at him. "You were amazing, Tiger. You were so passionate and so giving, you took my breath away." His eyes glowed with warmth, crinkling in the corners, and he lowered his head to brush a gentle kiss across her lips. "Never woulda guessed you had it in you."

"And you don't… mind?"

Dempsey spluttered. "Mind? Jesus, why would I mind? Ice Maiden on the outside, Fire Queen on the inside, it's every man's fantasy!"

There was a pause. "Not quite every man's," Harry said quietly.

Dempsey thought for a moment. Last thing he wanted was to talk about Harry's previous flings, but something was clearly bothering her. "Well," he said carefully, "any guy who didn't welcome your, um, enthusiasm, didn't deserve you anyway."

"He said it wasn't very ladylike."

Dempsey snorted. "You're kidding me, right? You're classier than the Queen. If you aint ladylike I don't know who is."

"But what we just did…" She trailed off uncertainly.

"Princess, what we just did was amazing. The most incredible and natural and wonderful thing. Didn't you feel it?" He suddenly looked a little anxious. "Wasn't it good for you?"

Harry couldn't help but laugh. "No, you idiot man, that's the point. It felt too good."

"No such thing as too good," said Dempsey, a smug grin creeping across his face.

Harry rolled her eyes, but also softened a little in his arms. Maybe not every man was as buttoned-up as her ex. Maybe she could be herself with Dempsey and it would be okay. A thought struck her and she turned her face to his. "Did you really think about us together?"

Dempsey's eyes trailed across her face, along her body, and he pulled her tighter. "Oh yeah," he said, his voice low. "Thinking about you and me together is pretty much my only hobby. See, even when you're not there, I can't get you out of my mind."

Colour blotted Harry's cheeks, but she carried on. "And what sort of things did you think about?"

Dempsey shifted his position so she was nestled comfortably in his arms, her back resting along his chest and her head tilted back on his shoulder. He took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles and then her palm. "I would think about you and me arguing in the office and you getting all hot and bothered and angry with me and then I would kiss you. Or maybe we'd be out at a bar and getting a bit merry and you would pull me close and I'd kiss you. Sometimes I'd think about coming over here at dawn and slipping into your bed and waking you up by kissing you."

Harry wriggled herself a bit closer. "There's a bit of a theme."

"I've been thinking about kissing you for a long time, Harry." She could feel his low tones vibrating along her body as she leaned against him.

"Just kissing?"

"No. Not just kissing." And he turned his head to capture her lips, sliding a soft kiss across them, parting them gently with his tongue. It gave him a thrill to feel how easily she responded to him, how quickly the heat built between them. He lifted his head before he lost control again.

"So," he said, running his fingers along her arm, "you never think about you and me? About this?" He smiled as he saw the blush soaking Harry's cheeks, figuring he'd got his answer whatever she said.

Harry said, coolly, "I might have had the odd moment of weakness."

Dempsey laughed, and growled, "Good for you, Tiger." He settled her back against his body and wrapped his arms around her. "So tell me," he said, "when you were having your moment of weakness, how did that make you feel?"

"Dempsey…"

"Come on, Princess. Cause I gotta tell you, when I would think about us together, about the things I'd like to do to you, it got me pretty hot under the collar."

"Is that right?"

"That is right. And I wondered whether you ever thought that way about me."

Harry turned a little in his arms and gazed at him. She could see the desire blazing in his eyes and it gave her a kick of confidence, of feminine power. Slowly, deliberately, she lowered herself down onto the sofa cushions, her eyes staying locked on his, and she pulled him down until he was resting on his elbows above her. "You want to know if I ever thought about you while I was lying alone in my bed?" she said slowly. "Or perhaps when I was washing myself in the shower? Or maybe even when I was here on this very sofa?"

Dempsey swallowed. He found he couldn't speak, but he managed a small nod.

"And you want to know whether thinking about you made me want to do this?" She slid her hand under the lapel of her bathrobe and eased it open, revealing her naked breast, and flicked a fingernail over her nipple. Dempsey was transfixed. "Or whether it made me want to do this?" She trailed her hand down over her stomach, the robe falling open as she went, until she reached her centre, sending a finger to dip into her folds.

"Harry, Jesus…" He couldn't breathe.

She lifted her hand away and wrapped her arm around his neck, pulling him closer. "I'm sorry, Dempsey," she said. "I couldn't possibly comment."

With a noise somewhere between a laugh and a groan, Dempsey lowered his lips to hers, his tongue in her mouth, his hands following the route hers had taken moments before. He'd never felt hunger like it, he ached for her, his need for her revealed in the strength of his desire. She was just as desperate for him, the attraction she'd kept hidden for so long now flowing from her in waves. As they reached their peak they clung to each other, whispering words they could no longer conceal, and although they knew it marked the end of their old friendship, they welcomed the start of something precious and new.

~The End~


End file.
